


Baracoa

by sarcoline



Series: Old and Grey [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Dream Sex, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 04, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Pillow Talk, Play Fighting, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 03, Sassy Will Graham, Someone Help Will Graham, These two are so domestic and sweet it'll give you a goddamn cavity, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcoline/pseuds/sarcoline
Summary: Will Graham woke up after the fall in a hospital alone. He cuts his ties with the US and moves to Cuba to become a hermit.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Old and Grey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018213
Comments: 3
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

In 40 odd years on Earth, Will Graham never thought he'd be house hunting in Cuba.

He purposely picked a country that would be the most inaccessible to the United States. It also had incredibly limited internet access. Maybe he was naively assuming he was less reliant on modern technology than he thought, but it was appealing to run away to a gorgeous island with minimal technological or political connection to the US.

Will looked, in earnest, at Havana as an option. It probably had the best amenities and culture. It certainly had the population for a middle aged man with bags under his eyes to disappear into. But it was also too oft-visited by tourists who could potentially recognize Will's dark curls. Not that he was on the run, but any chance at a peaceful life would require several degrees of separation from his identity as "Will Graham, FBI profiler,"

He looked into other Cuban cities too. Cienfuegos, Camagüey, and Viñales were appealing. But he couldn't escape the name 'Baracoa' when he saw it. Isolated geographically and culturally, this medium-sized northeastern coastal city seemed to call out to Will by name.

Will didn't know much Spanish. Truthfully, his verbal skills as a whole were not up to par. Being through the mouth, requires a great deal of reconstructive surgery. And, speech therapy. Hours of making nonsense noises and stretching newly-created cheeks to pronounce the first consonant of his own fucking name. He did eventually pass his speech therapy course, but only after deciding to speech with purpose and intent. No more babbling Will Graham.

He thought about _casa particulares_ , a uniquely Cuban phenomenon where private residences are rented out akin to Airbnb, or by the room like a boarding house. It would certainly be cheap. Easy to escape in case Uncle Jack came knocking for advice.

But in reality, Will Graham was a 40-something year old man. He needed a home, somewhere to put down his roots. What a tragically funny thing that that would be - returning to your boyhood transient lifestyle, not because of poverty, but because a cannibal serial killer sunk his claws so deep in that it blew up your life.

Will knew he and Molly were through when they sat together at her hospital bedside, after Francis attacked. They parted ways that day so... amicably. Will was going to go off and finish his business with the FBI and serial killers, so that the lives of a Molly and Walter wouldn't be in mortal danger. Not so that Will could come home the triumphant husband, but so they could move on. The divorce was surprisingly amicable in that way.

Will never told Jack, Alana, or Molly he was leaving. He wrote them all an individualized letter, saying he was taking a long trip. If they needed to reach him, they could send mail to a PO box in Florida.

Will had no intention of ever returning to the US and checking that PO Box.

He did his research and landed in Havana carrying two carry ons. He bought a map, bottled water, a Baracoa travel guide, and a Spanish-English dictionary at the airport.

So began his two-day-long journey of riding buses from airport-to-airport throughout the inland. He more often than not spent these hours staring out into the distance. There were lots of older and younger folks on these buses, but no one paid Will any mind. He poured over the guidebooks on Baracoa, reading up on the culture, history, and cuisine. It was mainly in Spanish, and Will made little notes in the margins translating what he could.

He finally arrived in Baracoa, at the end of a long day. He found a plainly marked, clean-looking HOTEL that took his money and request for a room with no issue. He forced himself to shower and finally took a look at himself in the mirror.

Months of physical therapy for his shoulder gave him the appearance of toned muscles. More wary, was his thinned figure. Hospital food and being on a liquid IV for a month does that, Will supposed. His beard was growing wildly, partially because he wanted it to. They shaved him frequently at the hospital. He understood it was to better see the wound and avoid infections, but he was hell-bent on growing out his beard for no other good reason than because he could.

The next day, Will used the rarity of internet access to look into real estate agencies nearby. It took everything in his power not to type [tattlecrime.com](http://tattlecrime.com) into the net browser instead. The hotel receptionist helped him call a taxi, and recommend a tech store for his own phone, that dropped him off in front of a real estate agency.

Rafael, a short and stocky bearded man with greasy hair, was the only one from the company who would take him as a client. The other agents quickly decided, from Will's slow, intentional speech that he was a gringo with a personality problem. Not worth their time. Rafael smelled like car grease and cigarettes, but he had a decent grasp on English that made communication easier between them.

"I show you three houses. Tomorrow. Be here at 10 in the morning."

That night, in his hotel room, Will practiced the sentences he'd need when looking at houses. "Cuanto cuesta?" he repeated in the mirror. _Yo prefiero una casa con menos espacio. Me gusta el jardin. No tengo esposa, ni hijos - es solo yo._

At ten in the morning, Rafael and Will took a taxi through tropical woods to the first house. He asked a few preliminary questions that Will knew was coming. Will explained he was looking for something small and manageable, ideally with a good yard.

The first one was a split-level house, nestled in between a field of grass that gave ample room between him and his neighbors in this subdivision. It had lots of room for a garden or a shed if Will wanted to build one. Indoors, the walls were painted a bright blue in some rooms, and orange in others. The floor was entirely wood throughout. 4 bedrooms, 4 and a half bathrooms. Will couldn't comment much besides "Mucho espacio,".

"Change of plans. New house,"

They headed back towards the city, and stopped in a cozy little neighborhood tucked behind a big municipal building. The houses were smaller out here, less space between them, but the only stairs in the whole house were the three leading to the front door. This one had two bedrooms, a disgustingly fancy master bathroom, and big inviting windows. Still, Rafael noticed that Will's eyes kept wandering towards the windows, and the disappointment in his eyes at seeing the lack of scenery or nature.

"I've got it, I know which house you want,"

So they off they went again, through the city. Down to the beach, and then down an off-road from the public beach. Winding dirt roads weaved them up and down the coastline. Will didn't realize this was residential land, and kept being knocked against the car door from the bumpy road.

"It's close, to your right,"

Will looked out the passenger side window and sure enough, there was a roof peaking out from a little dip in the hillside. Fifty feet up from the beach, surrounded by grass and trees. More winding roads lead them up the driveway to a small bungalow, nestled in beside grass and huge bushes. It was one floor all across, but it probably had an attic. They got out and Will immediately felt at home. Between the waves crashing down the hillside, his shaded garden, Will was sold. He wandered around inside and immediately understood why it was within Will's price range. The kitchen/living room area was one in the same, tile floors throughout the whole house. The bed looked straight out towards the east, which Will knew would be a bitch in the mornings. The master bathroom was surprisingly decadent, but the other half bathroom was basically a narrow closet with a toilet and a sink. It was also tucked away in the basement, with a utility room and laundry sink that Will would soon find use for. There was a small room on the main floor that could be an office or storage room.

Rafael and Will stood outside on the separated terrace after the tour, Rafael cigarette in hand. Will asked more questions about how the property worked, and what he'd need to know before buying. Rafael courteously answered everything, and anything too complicated for Rafael's English and Will's Spanish was patiently solved by consulting the dictionary.

So Will bought the house.

Rafael was in a state of disbelief when Will said he'd take it. It took several minutes for him to understand that yes, this American was buying a house after one tour. They took a taxi back to the real estate office, where Rafael smugly announced to his coworkers that he made a sale with a not-so-modest commission. His coworkers verbally congratulated him, but teemed with jealousy. Will signed the paperwork and took the keys. Rafael vigorously shook his hand and wished him well.

That's how Will ended up on the floor of his two bed, one-and-a-half bath beach house eating street food he and Rafael picked up in the city He could already picture making coffee and reading the paper on the patio. Maybe getting a dog. Playing catch on the beach.

He looked at the empty wall across from him, and suddenly thought of Hannibal. He would have bought an outrageously expensive and Gothic oil painting to hang there, one that dripped with metaphors about life and death and sex and nothing at all. He'd insist on turning the basement into a study, so their living room could just be a proper dining room, he knew. He'd probably repaint the whole house. Buy a motorcycle to get to town and back.

Will looked down and pulled out a folded-up paper picture of Hannibal's mugshot. He swiped it from Jack's desk once, convincing himself it was to understand the mind of the Chesapeake Ripper better. Hannibal's catlike eyes smiled back at him, indifferent to being caught after so long.

He didn't even know if Hannibal knew how to ride a motorcycle. Or if he even _could_ ride one. He didn't know what, where, or how Hannibal was. All he knew was they fell off the cliff together. They couldn't live together or apart. So maybe they'd have to die together. That's what Will thought as he plunged them into the Atlantic.

But that wasn't what happened. Instead of dying together, Will woke up alone in a hospital bed. Jack asked... no, told him what happened. _"Hannibal tried to push you off the cliff you and you grabbed him. We found you on the sands of the beach. Hannibal is presumed drowned."_

Voice breaking, Will whispered to the photo.

_"Where are you?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to research what life is like in Cuba without romanticizing it too much. I do ask for a small amount of suspension of disbelief in terms of what life in Cuba is truly like (especially in a small town like Baracoa). Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

Will was settling into his new home of Baracoa quite easily. It was a relatively small town, so he tried to keep a low profile by making small purchases. Someone who ordered a mattress, bedframe, kitchen utensils, and a ton of furniture all at once might raise some eyebrows. Especially when they were so obviously American. Not that Will thought Baracoans were nosy, but the less people aware of Will Graham, the better.

He also learned his new reality of life would be getting groceries. While there were a few traditional grocery stores in Baracoa, the majority of people went to farmers markets and neighborhood stores.

So, Will got used to walking to get groceries. Every day. It calmed him, truthfully. He hoped he became a familiar but indistinguishable face, eventually.

Another thing Will learned quickly, is that stray dogs were just as common as grass in Cuba. None of them were particularly aggressive or friendly, they simply coexisted with the humans on the street. There weren't any particular breeds that you could point out, just mixes of strays that ignored you if you walked by, but stared back if you stared.

One dog in particular took note of Will, probably from him walking home from getting groceries at 2pm sharp everyday. It was a small brown dog with comically large ears. She was clearly a mutt, probably a dachshund and a beagle of some kind. She had three legs and glared at Will.

He fell in love instantly.

He was wary of approaching her, so instead he left little pieces of food out for her, that day-by-day got closer to his home. Eventually, she was eating in Will's own yard. He decided her name was Dixie at some point, after she started sleeping and playing in Will's yard most of the day. Dixie wouldn't let Will pet her, but she did sit out on the extended terrace, staring at the ocean while Will did.

Upon cleaning out the basement, he discovered a box with a miscellaneous assortment of books, dog chew toys, and... oil paints? The universe seemed to provide Will with the gift basket he deserved, not the one he needed.

Will couldn't help but unpack his newly purchased art supplies on the front patio, while Dixie was angrily and loudly playing with a chew-toy. She did eventually tire out and pass out, splayed on the concrete tile of the terrace overlooking the Atlantic. Will didn't open any of the paint tubes, but got excited about the prospect of using them one day.

Will tucked in around 11 and sighed. An unexpectedly fruitful day. Actually, an amazing day. Probably the best he had since arriving in Cuba. Or since getting out of the hospital. Or since getting in the hospital.

He longingly reached across the bed at the empty space. He could have splayed himself out on the queen size bed, like most people do when they sleep alone. But Hannibal should have been there. He should have been with him today.

It should be Hannibal lying in bed with him, whispering softly about how much of an impulsive buyer he is.

_"You like my impulsivity," Will whispered, scooting closer to Hannibal. "I impulsively told Jack I didn't like his museum's name. And here we are,"_

_"Here we are," Hannibal whispered back, for no one in particular. There's no neighbors for at least a mile, and Dixie seemed utterly uninterested in Hannibal as a whole. He caressed Will's cheekbones with a loving gaze. Content to just lie haphazardly in each other's arms. Like they've done this a million times, pre- & post-fuck, in the middle of the day, or in the middle of the night. Right now, both men were lying on their backs, Will's head nestled into the crook of Hannibal's shoulder. Both naked, but with destination other than rubbing lazy circles into each other's skin._

_Will leaned up, and turned around to face Hannibal by propping his forearm up. Hannibal looked at him like he was the most interesting creature in the world. So Will leaned forward to kiss him. Softly at first, lips just merely touching. Then Hannibal kiss him back._

_It was such a tender embrace, that suddenly took a shifting turn when Hannibal tugged on Will's hair and bit down on his lower lip. Will threw back the covers and shifted his legs to properly straddle Hannibal now. Slowly rocking down on him._

_"Do you want me to ride you into the mattress?" Will teasingly said, He could feel Hannibal's growing erection beneath him. Will leaned forward and started draping little kisses down Hannibal's body, and savoring every little moan he got out of him._

_Will's cock was now firmly at attention, bouncing obscenely against his stomach and begging for attention. Hannibal stole one last kiss and grabbed Will's ass to slide him forward, lining his cock straight at his mouth._

_It wasn't the most picturesque of scenes - Will straddling forward in front of Hannibal, now propping himself up on forearms to better capture Will's cock. He took it in his mouth and sucked relentlessly, bobbing his head for good measure._

_He kept sucking, dousing the head and his slit with attention before running his tongue up and down the frenulum again. Will let out traitorous little moans, mouthing "God" when he could to avoid being so vocal. He finally tugged Hannibal's mouth off, lasciviously letting the saliva drip from his mouth with that catlike smile._

_"Baby, we have all night. Take it slow for me, okay?" Will said, gently caressing Hannibal's cheeks. Hannibal nodded as Will slid down to kiss him._

_"We have the rest of our lives, my remarkable boy,"_

He suddenly broke from the fantasy, and felt the overwhelming need to take a shower. He washed himself off with some coconut-scented soap, but couldn't hold it together for long. With one forearm leaned against the shower wall, he let out a wracked sob. One that comes straight from his gut and continues in shaking grunts and a hot stream of tears down his face. Hannibal was gone. He could be dead or alive, but he's _gone_.

* * *

It's another rainy day in Baracoa.

Baracoa has the unique facet of having a unique microclimate. Being nestled in between a mountain range and the Atlantic meant that he had rain and wind and hot tropical climates, all at once. It felt a little surreal, realizing he was sweating because of the heat but being cooled down by the wind all at once, only to be then drenched by the rain.

Will sits out on his front terrace. He has a flimsy table and a wood folding chair out here now. He started drinking whiskey while experimenting with his new oil paints until a torrential downpour soaked him in less than 5 seconds. After frantically capping all the paints and rushing them inside, he found he didn't particularly care that he was drenched. Returning outside, Will took another hefty swig straight from the bottle stared at Dixie. She was sleeping under the shade of the excess roof, on top of a pile of rocks Will created for this purpose. Dixie couldn't stay dry if she simply layed down in the grass, but she could if she climbed up the mini rock tower Will built with rocks he collected from the ocean.

Oh yes, the ocean. It had a freezing-hot quality that only numbed Will's ankles so far. Supposedly, sharks in the area were nocturnal, and swimming should only occur in daylight hours. 

Will took another swig, feeling another onslaught of tears coming on. So he did what any rational man would do - go swimming in a rainstorm.

He made careful steps down to the shore. He'd have to build a hand-railing sometime. Carefully putting one bare foot in front of the other, he managed to not slip and reach the sandy beach. The waves weren't particularly large today, just frantic with surface tension from the bullets of rain.

He took several slow steps in toward the ocean. The water felt warmer than normal today. Just freezing-cold, not freezing-hot which was somehow better. Will forced himself, step by step, to brave the pain longer. Something sharp tickled the bridge of his right foot in the sand. He winced and brought his foot up, noticing a small freebleeding cut. He'd deal with that later.

The wind started picking up as Will walked further and further into the ocean. The fire in his belly fueled by whiskey was a poor defense against the water. It was numbingly cold, but Will welcomed the feeling of losing human contact with his knees, his thighs, then his hips, and his waist.

The simultaneous rain above him and water below him made him feel like he was encompassed, but still breathing. Weightless and so desperately cold, but free. Losing his senses to the cold but loving the feeling of being freed from his body.

"WILL!"

A trick of the wind. Especially when such a voice sounded like-

"WILL!"

Will turned around to two arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders, and then nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

Dixie barked.

Will opened his eyes and realized he was being manhandled. Someone was carrying him across his living room firemen style. He was roughly dropped onto the sofa, and someone started coughing, with pain from exertion.

His eyes couldn't stay open. Dixie couldn't stop barking from outside. The rain wasn't letting up either. The newfound peace of Will's life in Cuba was now a cacophony of blind dog barks, violent coughing, and torrential rainpour.

He didn't stick around to see what else he could hear

He woke up again, sometime later, slightly dryer, on the couch now. His body was encompassed in a scratchy navy blue blanket he had never used, and was wearing a cozy green sweater he wasn't wearing earlier. Grey sweatpant and tube socks. Actually, tube socks and a... band aid? That must be what he feels, flexing his right foot.

He winced and leaned up, noticing his hair was still slightly damp.

That's when he saw Hannibal goddamn Lecter collapsed on his floor.

Will jumped up off the cushions and down to the floor, kneeling by Hannibal's side and cradling his face in seconds.

"Hannibal? Hannibal? Please, can you hear me?" Will asked, shaking and desperate. Hannibal stirred slightly and let out a small raspy breath. His skin was pale, and he was drenched. A cane that most certainly did not belong to Will was absently lying on the floor next to the couch.

"Will," He whispered. Hannibal was alive. Hannibal was alive, on his floor. 

"Please, Hannibal tell me what I need to do." Will pleaded. Pleading with the universe not to take him away now that he was back.

"Will, I'll be fine," Hannibal exhaled. He opened his eyes slightly, and they met Will's puppy-dog-eyes with certainty. Will's thumb continually grazing over his stupid Hannibal-cheekbones. "I over-exerted myself, rescuing you,"

Will let out a nervous laugh, that turned into a full blown cackle. He didn't let go of Hannibal, didn't stop crouching down so their faces were centimeters apart even though it was killing his back.

"It's you," Will grinned, a tear welling up in his eye. Hannibal grunted as he pushed himself up with one forearm, then looked into Will's eyes, darting down to look at his lips.

It didn't matter who started the kiss. It was probably both of them, or neither. Their faces were so close it could have been Will's shaking that brought them together. It did matter when Will felt Hannibal's warm lips against his own, so gently and delicate. Will pressed forward, still cradling Hannibal's jaw. He could taste the salty hot tears streaming down his face, but he didn't care. The static energy in their lips was palpable to Will, and gave him butterflies in his stomach again.

"I'll need a little assistance getting up," Hannibal eventually exhaled, practically into Will's mouth with their foreheads still pressed together. Will nodded and wrapped one arm around his torso, and another across his shoulders. Hannibal's legs were wobbling, but they got up indeed.

"Your bedroom,"

Will's ears buzzed and grew hot at that sound. But it had to be for practical reasons. They hobbled together, until Hannibal could collapse onto Will's king-sized bed with a navy blue comforter. Will's medical safety kit was already opened on the dresser, clearly retrieved haphazardly from the closet floor.

"I need my cane, and a change of clothes if you could,"

"O-Of course," Will said. He walked back out and picked up the black cane with a curved handle. He returned to hand it to Hannibal, who graciously accepted it.

"You have a cane now," Will said, knowing for a damn fact his cheeks were a bright red. He just had the single-most emotional reunion of his life, that involved tears and kissing and kissing tears on the floor of a Cuban beach house.

"An astute observation, yes," Hannibal said plainly. Hannibal and his dry-as-bones humor. "I'll need to warm up and clean off, may I borrow your bathroom?"

Politeness still reigns, even in cases of near-hypothermia apparently. "Y-Yeah, sure." Will said. Hannibal rose and despite shaking, walked to the bathroom cane-in-hand. He started to close the door when Will suddenly put out his hand on the door frame.

"I'm worried you'll pass out, or something. Can I just sit and talk to you? I'll turn away,"

Hannibal smiled and reached up with his free hand to cover Will's hand with his. Smooth skin and perfect cuticles, still. Warming Will's with every heartbeat they touched.

"Of course,"

So Will sat on the floor, facing the sink, while Hannibal turned on the bath and stripped. Will knew to turn around when he heard Hannibal's grunts of climbing over the tub and the splash of water.

They simply stared at each other for a moment. Will was rested against the wall now, knees up so he could pretend to not have Hannibal's naked body in his view.

"What happened?" Will asked. Not an eloquent question, but it certainly encompassed the topic of what the hell had happened in the past year.

"You were bleeding and I was worried you would drown, or attract the attention of sharks. There are sharks in this area, Will,"

"Not that," Will said, running a distraught hand through his hair. "At the cliff house. After we fell,"

Hannibal's placid face faltered, and he looked down with guilt. The water was still running, thank God, or the room would have been filled with an awkward silence.

"We were brought to shore by the current, and by me. I didn't know the extent of your injuries. Someone driving by saw the battle and called the police. I saw them and knew you needed medical attention, but I had to run,"

"So you... left me. For my own good," Will said, trying to make it make sense to himself.

"Yes," Hannibal said.

"Where did you... no, never mind that," Will turned away. "What were your injuries?"

"I needed surgery, which I procured, and rehabilitation. The combined factors and the fall meant that a 100% recovery was unlikely, if not impossible. I'm reasonably capable in every day life with my cane, provided I avoid strenuous physical activity." Hannibal explained, so matter-of-factly.

Will swallowed a knot and tried to avoid letting his voice break. "How did you find me?"

"Your financial records. Eavesdropped conversations with the Behavioral Science Unit, and dumb luck,"

Will couldn't bear the distance anymore. The stupid bathtub separating them. So Will slowly stood up, and without breaking eye contact, stepped into the other end of the tub. He let his pants sink into the hot water and he cradled his legs in between Hannibal's so they could both fit. Hannibal gave Will a peculiar look once he was settled in.

"Did you check up on me?" Will muttered, choosing to stare at the way his sweater was growing darker with every new wave that came from the other side of the tub.

"As much as I could have," Hannibal said. It was clear that this was hard for Hannibal to think about too. "Medical records, and an event like this were very secretive. I confirmed that you were alive after a month or so. I didn't realize you were out of the hospital until you flew here,"

"So what took you so long?" Will finally asked, voice breaking and tears gathering.

"Will I-" Hannibal exhaled, running an exasperated hand over his mouth. "I wanted to. Every day. It was too risky."

Will was still silently crying, and when Hannibal extended his arm, he accepted. Hannibal pulled Will towards him, turning him around in the weightlessness of water to now cradle him, Will's back to Hannibal's chest. Will's soaked sweater dripped rivulets of water that trailed down Hannibal's chest.

"Will," Hannibal whispered into his hair, cradling him around his chest. Will let himself sink against Hannibal, having never felt this content to be in such an absurd position.

"I must ask, why did you join me with your clothes on?"

"I wanted to see what would happen," Will said, not being able to resist a smile. Hannibal too, laughed.

Hannibal got out of the bath first, toweling off and going to Will's bedroom to retrieve another pair of dry clothes for Will. He came back clothed in one of Will's larger flannel sweatpants, shirtless. And for the second time today, Will had to change out of drenched clothes because of an emotionally fueled decision to baptize himself.

Will changed quickly and collected their clothes and towels out to the drying rack in his living room. He noticed the drenched outline of a body on the couch where he woke up, and unzipped the cushion covers to dry those too. Washer-dryers were expensive in Cuba, and not worth the effort of purchasing if you had a washboard and a clothesline. Unless it rained, of course. Then you used a drying rack with a towel laid out underneath.

Hannibal was wandering Will's kitchen, still shirtless, while Will finished cleaning up. He casually opened up cabinets and drawers to check on what Will had to eat.

"I'll make us tea," Will said, extending an arm casually around Hannibal's waist. "Unless you're hungry? I can whip something up,"

"I'd be honored," Hannibal said softly, resting his forehead against Will's. Their little bubble of domesticity was interrupted by Dixie and a sharp bark. The little dog stared at them from the ground, tail wagging so vigorously it made her single front leg wobble.

"She thinks I'm in trouble." Will said. "Or more likely, she wants food too. Just a second,"

Will walked to the top cabinet and pulled out some dog food and scooped a small portion into the bowl. Dixie was already digging mouth-first into the bowl before Will could even leave it on the ground entirely.

"She'll get used to you, the more you're around. If you're staying..." Will's voice trailed off, because the reality of their reunion was sinking in. Hannibal was still on the run. Will didn't know where he was going or what his plans were, and if those plans involved him.

"I'll stay as long as you'll have me," Hannibal said, smiling sweetly. It was music to Will's ears. He rushed to Hannibal's side and kissed him desperately, teeth knocking with pure joy. He could feel Hannibal's smiling behind puckered lips.

After a small meal of tea and banana bread at the kitchen counter, Will swallowed his last gulp of tea nervously. "There's, ahm, only one bedroom. I don't have any extra pillows or linens for you anywhere. And my only couch is kind of undressed right now. Are you okay sharing a bed, for tonight?"

"More than okay," Hannibal said. Their hands met and they linked between fingers, Hannibal's thumb caressing Will's. "I'll be a perfect gentleman and gracious guest,"

"Okay," Will smiled, taking another absentminded sip of tea from a mug that was devoid of any liquid anyway.

It was only 6 in the evening, but they were both clearly exhausted, mentally and physically. Will fluffed the pillows as Hannibal placed a glass of water on the nightstand on that side of the bed. They both climbed in and faced each other, a foot apart.

"Do you need to pick anything up from somewhere? Get some things to move in?" Will asked, half ensconced in the comforter.

"I have some items at a local budget-hotel that are useful, but not pressing," Hannibal said. It was already getting dark out despite only being a little past six. It seemed to fit the sleepy mood indoors too.

"Hannibal Lecter, at a motel?" Will feigned shock. "What an interesting sight,"

"Francisco Morales is staying at motel, actually," Hannibal said, absentmindedly running a finger through Will's curls. Will knew this meant some man was killed, maybe a Cuban or a Mexico, and Hannibal took his papers. It didn't occur to Will care at this moment. Not with Hannibal here.

"Well, I walk you to town to pick up your things at some point," Will said. He kissed Hannibal's hand as it drew downwards from Will's hair to his cheek. "I'm so glad you're here, Hannibal,"

"I can't tell you the number of times I imagined the teacup coming back together again, and how beautiful of a surprise this reality is," Hannibal whispered. He drew closer to kiss Will's forehead.

"You know, Hannibal," Will said, scooting forward in bed to nestle himself into Hannibal's arms. "I imagined you here before, but never with your grey hair."

"Oh really?" Hannibal asked, stroking Will's back. Will snaked an arm around Hannibal's waist nodded.

"Well," Hannibal responded, lips pressed to Will's head and buried in his curls. "It wouldn't be remiss to mention your own gray hairs, though evidently not as obvious as mine,"

Will giggled into Hannibal's chest and it couldn't have made Hannibal happier. To have Will again, in his arms, having sleepy conversations in bed. "God, we're both so old,"

Hannibal absentmindedly kissed the top of Will's head while Will traced circles into his back.

"I wouldn't have it any other way,"

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

It was still rainy in Baracoa, a week and a half later. It did let up after a few days, but when it did they stopped at the "local budget-hotel" where Hannibal's things were. As it turns out, he had mostly clothes and toiletries. Some paperwork. All in a grimy red duffel-bag. Hannibal walked in and out wearing some gaudy sunglasses that made Will want to laugh at him, but he recognized the necessity of having a less-than-dignified disguise. Hannibal's attachment to the finer things in life got him caught last time. 

Hannibal's... aversion to Baracao wasn't very well hidden. Will could tell he yearned for somewhere bigger, and with a house of mutual benefit. Still, Hannibal nonchalantly cooked their meals and didn't talk about the future. 

After one, particularly delicious meal of tetí in a coconut marinade, Will leaned back and realizes how much he's missed Hannibal's cooking. "This is amazing,"

"Thank you," Hannibal said. When they finished most of their meal, Hannibal cleared his throat after a sip of water. "Do you desire me sexually, Will?"

Will nearly spit out his water at the sound of that. He looked at Hannibal and swallowed, determined not to break eye contact.

"Yes. Do you?"

"Most certainly,"

Will raised his eyebrows, not sure if this was another one of their talk-in-circling-metaphors conversations or just a machismo-driven pissing contest in brutal honesty.

"I'm simply interested in ascertaining the limitations of our relationship, and what that entails." Hannibal said. 

"You've taken liberties in our relationship previously. Shoving a tube down my throat or stabbing me wasn't discussed beforehand,"

"I am a lot of things, Will, but I'm not a sexual deviant," Hannibal plainly responded. As gruesome and violent as the crimes of Il Mostro, the Chesapeake Ripper and the copycat were, there was never any perverted sexual fantasies attached. 

"Fair. I probably should ask too. Do you have any physical limitations?" Will asked. If Hannibal wanted a pissing contest, he was going to get one. The emotional shackles of heterosexuality were nothing compared to a gunshot wound to the abdomen of a middle-aged man. 

Hannibal stared back at Will with fierce eyes, both offended and proud of Will. Time had not stopped Will from being a cleverly tongued man, who knew how to work Hannibal up. The sexual tension in the room was comparable to the time they dined together in Baltimore, years ago, eating ortolans in an overly phallic display of culinary bonding. He poured them both another glass of the red that they shared over dinner from the decanter.

"As it might be obvious, I can't drag another man up a cliff and take care of his wounds and offset hypothermia without collapsing. I'm better at prolonged, less strenuous activity. The bullet and the physical therapy took away a great deal of my core strength."

"But you're otherwise, physically uninhibited?" Will asked, sipping flirtatiously at his wine glass. 

"Fit as a fiddle," Hannibal said, with a quick wink. 

Will let Dixie back in and took down some clothes from the clothesline. A sunny day in Baracoa meant clothes were hanging between tree limbs, and laundry took much more time and effort when it involved scrubbing down everything with a washboard by hand and hanging it to dry. 

When they retired to bed that night, both reading by the lamplight, Hannibal broke the silence again. "I wanted to determine what you were comfortable with," 

Will smiled and put his book down. Thank God Hannibal couldn't shut up sometimes. Will himself was getting curious when they'd progress past intense make outs and cuddling. "You assume I have some reticence to sexual activity?"

"I'm saying you might have diffidence, from whatever source, in a way that I don't," 

Will leaned over to Hannibal took his hand. "It'd be juvenile and unnecessary to have some drawn out conversation about our sexual histories, so I'll give you an informative summation. I'm attracted to men and women, but in our heteronormative culture I've only had fulfilling experiences with women."

"Interesting," Hannibal said, finally looking down at Will. He was propped up against the headboard while Will was completely horizontal in bed, while their thumbs danced in a casual game of tag. He liked the domesticity of it, for once. "When you say fulfilling, does this mean you lack experience or the self-confidence to be fulfilled?"

Will took a moment to answer, not wanting to have to share his entire male sexual history. He kissed a boy in seventh grade behind the bleachers in Port Clinton, and didn't get much attention from either sex until college, where parties facilitated drunken make outs by guys and girls who were enchanted with Will's too-long hair. The farthest he had gotten was a messy over-the-underwear but under-the-pants hand-job from a stranger in Louisiana. When the belts came off and Will's police badge slid out of his pocket, the man stepped back and freaked out because "he had a hot car". 

"I lack the distinguishing tactile experience, but I have a good imagination and am firm in my beliefs. You're not going to scare me off," 

Hannibal sunk down into bed and kissed Will, satisfied enough with that answer. "I've always been fascinated with your imagination. We can put it to good use someday,"

Someday. Will knew he could get hard in less than two minutes and act out his fantasy from weeks ago on Hannibal, but it didn't feel like it'd fit the flow of their relationship. 

"You know, I've already been penetrated and choked by you," Will said with a cheeky grin.

Hannibal's eyes squinted with confusion for a moment, before remembering Will's previous examples of a plastic tube down his throat and a knife in his Baltimore kitchen. 

"I aim to right those wrongs when the time comes," 

\---

The time came when about a week later.

Hannibal was reading up on local Baracoan cuisine, it seemed. He was on his third attempt at making cucurucho - a Baracoan specialty of sugar, honey, coconut, pineapple, nuts, and papaya. All wrapped in a palm leaf. Will knew Hannibal couldn't resist the artistry of the palm leaf. Hannibal even abandoned their post-dinner wine for a coconut-rum cocktail as well. All in all, Will was feeling enamored with Hannibal in his life now. 

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when Will strolled into their bedroom after showering, and settled himself onto Hannibal's lap. They started kissing, playfully at first. Then, Will clutched at Hannibal's hair and bit his bottom lip and let out a little moan. Will knew exactly what he was doing when he teased Hannibal like this. It brought out a different side to Hannibal. Will adored the way Hannibal treated him with the reverence and grace of a Greek God, but that wasn't what made Will's cock stir in the middle of the night when they cuddled. Will wanted Hannibal's beautiful punishments to adorn his body, ache his muscles, and limp his gait.

Hannibal shoved Will down onto the bed, letting his figure tower over Will's. He aggressively clutched Will's neck upwards to kiss him again, practically devouring him. He left a harsh bite on Will's lower lip, now kissing and sucking his way down Will's neck. He circled Will's nipples with nimble fingers, leaving Will to softly moan. They grew louder when Hannibal abruptly brings the lower half of his body down to essentially hump Will's erection through his jeans. Hannibal had seen Will's cock before, in the two times he's had to undress and redress Will's unconscious body. He'd also felt it many nights against his body as they slept. He knelt down to quickly unbuckle Will's belt before briefly stopping. 

"Is this where I think it's going?" Will asked, caressing Hannibal's cheekbones. 

"I believe it is, but we should reposition." Hannibal guided Will's waist towards the edge of the bed, so that Hannibal could kneel at the edge of the bed instead of hover over him. Will suddenly realizes it's for Hannibal's comfort, because his core strength might not be good enough to keep them solely on the bed still.

"Are you okay? Do you want to do this?" Will asks. 

Hannibal looks up at him with his piercing brown eyes and grips the sides of his thighs. "More than anything. Only with your consent,"

"God, please, yes," 

Hannibal tugged down Will's jeans and boxers in one foul swoop. Will's cock had softened in their brief interlude into the wistful, but Hannibal simply sees this as a challenge to behold. 

From his knees resting at the floor, Hannibal teasingly licked the head while making continuous eye contact. The unapologetic greediness of Hannibal's tongue against his glans jump-started Will to a full erection again. He felt the lips pucker and close around the head, while slowly lowering his mouth lower while tonguing the slit. Will let out a gasp before Hannibal can bring himself deeper down Will's cock. Hannibal has brought Will from half-mast to exuding pre-cum. 

It's the unapologetic way that Hannibal sucks with those hot, soft lips with such desire that made Will unconsciously buck his hips forward. In his, albeit limited, previous sexual experiences, oral sex was always treated as a an annoying prerequisite to tick off all the boxes of a full sexual experience. Hannibal's bobbing head and sweeping tongue actively redefined what a blowjob could be. 

And as if Hannibal knew Will was on the edge, Hannibal deep-throated him. Fully and mercilessly. Will's back involuntarily arched and he tried to wrap his mind around what's happening. The man who obsessively pursues the fanciest and oldest-barreled wines, who wore ten thousand dollar three-piece suits casually, was deep-throating with no hint of shame in the debauchery. In fact, he seemed enjoying this as much as his expensive operas and nine-course feasts.

He pushed Hannibal up by the shoulders and off of his dick to pull his jeans and underwear fully off of his body. He mentally tried to ground himself, trying to think of anything that could make him last longer. His attempt was thwarted by the sight of Hannibal flushed and lips lined with saliva. He brought his lips back down to suck Will again, letting his fingers grip and claw at Will's naked thighs. The hot slick pull of his mouth left Will unconsciously thrusting his hips up again, to get more of Hannibal on himself. His cheeks indented inwards as he truly suctioned Will's shaft. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, y-you should slow down,"

Hannibal looked up at Will from between his thighs. He didn't stop, and only looked up with focus and intent. Purely debauched Hannibal is a sight to behold; face red and hairline beading with sweat. Will didn't try to fight the inevitable anymore. He arched his back while Hannibal resumed sucking with the same ferocity as before. 

Will couldn't hold back anymore. His body shook as he released while Hannibal remained unwavering by the hot cum soaring down his throat. His lips and tongue continued stroking Will, until Will stopped shaking through the aftershocks. Will's mind and body united in the white-hot glow of post-orgasmic peace. He didn't notice Hannibal leave him until his cock was greeted by the cool air again.

Hannibal rose up, where Will uses both his hands to pull him onto the bed, at Will's side. Their lips met in an unforgiving intense kiss. Between the wet slide of their tongues, Will finally realized there's a thick bulge digging into Will's depleted and exposed cock. Will reached downwards towards Hannibal's belt, unrelenting in their open-mouthed kiss. Thankfully, Hannibal finally helped out in Will's endeavor to remove every piece of fabric in their way. Then Hannibal's girthy and uncut cock obscenely plopped out of his boxer-briefs. 

The two broke from their kiss and Will looks deep into Hannibal's eyes longingly. This was Will's first time with a man, full-stop. There's some hesitation, but mainly curiosity and desire that brought Will's hand to reach downward and stroke Hannibal's shaft. It's a little strange at first, feeling soft foreskin that isn't his own. Hannibal clearly enjoyed it; given up the pretense of being able to focus on kissing. 

With his other hand, Will clutched Hannibal's hair and continued his exploratory strokes. With one thumb focused on the head, Hannibal let out a soft grunt that only encouraged Will. He stroked faster, trying to gauge what made Hannibal respond with gasps versus desperate clutches on Will's shoulder. The two stared into each other, and it was entirely clear that Hannibal was on the edge of being completely undone by Will's hand. Will started peppering Hannibal's exposed neck and jawline with little kisses while quickening the pace of his strokes. Then, Hannibal became undone. Spurts of cum shot out, partially soaking Will's hand in his continued, but slowing strokes.

In a few quiet moments, they lay together as a heavily breathing, post-orgasmic mess of two humans. After some time, Hannibal casually sat up, wiped the remnants of saliva and cum off of the corner of his mouth, and walked towards the bathroom. Will ran his hands over his face in an attempt to reunite his soul to his body, which might not be possible with how good Hannibal took him. He heard the running of water and splashes hitting the sink. Will unsteadily leaned up and pulled his boxers back on, not knowing what comes next. His sexual encounters never involved the expectation of the other person sticking around. Their post-orgasmic bliss fell quite naturally into teasing pillow talk, Will found. 

"That was... Jesus, that was good," Will said when Hannibal finally came back in. Shirtless, again, in a pair of dark grey sweatpants that seemed to be Hannibal's bedtime uniform.

"I appreciate the feedback," Hannibal said. "My ego certainly enjoyed having you writhe from my mouth alone,"

"Clearly very talented with your mouth. No wonder you switched to psychiatry," Will said, shoving him a little. Hannibal sunk down into bed and playfully forced Will's forearm above his head. Will tried fighting back but found he liked being restrained by Hannibal way too much to do that.

"Arrogant," Will said, trying to keep a straight face. 

"You loved it," Hannibal said, finally giving up his hold to sink down and kiss Will. They took their time lazily kissing, until Will realized how late it was and groaned. 

"Doctor Lecter, it's getting late," Will drawled. Hannibal smirked at him, knowingly. A little southern twang and the extended "Doctor" did terrible things to Hannibal. 

Instead, they mutually turned off the lights on either side of the bed. Will never noticed how disgustingly chagrin yet endearing Hannibal's ramblings were. And they had a lifetime ahead of them for Will to make snippy little comments and for Hannibal to teasingly shove him back, before eventually settling into sleepy cuddles. 

A lifetime ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my lovelies! Next up, we'll see Will and Hannibal ~elsewhere~


End file.
